


The Icky Thing

by Rainsaber



Series: The Non-Superhero Stuff [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Driving while sick, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Helicopter parenting via FRIDAY, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sick College Freshman Spider, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony flies to the rescue, college days, mild panic attack, you do not mess with the flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainsaber/pseuds/Rainsaber
Summary: The flu doesn’t care if you’re Spider-man, and it loves when you’re a stressed-out college kid still learning how to take care of yourself. Sequel to The Driving Thing.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: The Non-Superhero Stuff [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1187129
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	The Icky Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally thought this one fit later on, but realized it actually works where it is before the next part in this series. Get your tissue boxes ready for that one. Nothing like a pandemic and job furloughs to get you working on fanfiction again. Will be making a few updates to stories and will post some new ones as well this week and weekend. Stay safe and wear your masks, kids. That is the ONE literal thing you have in your power to do and be a hero these days. Much appreciated from a theatre-maker whose industry has been absolutely decimated. Thanks and enjoy the read!

Hitting the Send button on an email never felt so good.

Peter sighed and slumped over on his desk, groaning and wishing he’d taken his sometimes roommate up on that milkshake from the corner store. He wasn’t entirely sure who had the better deal, in terms of having a roommate who only appeared for a week at a time a couple of times per semester, but Peter was thankful he had a roommate who was so nice. In fact, whenever Peter came to stay for a week George practically threw a floor party for him. Though he wasn’t having the normal college experience of being away from home for months at a time, Peter still didn’t regret his choice. He still got to see plenty of MJ and Ned, whenever their studies allowed, he got to keep living at home with May, visit Tony and Pepper, nag Happy and the Avengers on plenty of occasions, and on top of that continue keeping Queens safe as Spider-man.

College was a nice break to his normal life, even if the amount of work he was submitting within a week’s time would be insane to any regular student. It had certainly been much more than his workload in high school but when it was all about the kind of things he actually wanted to study it didn’t feel so much like work. More than once he thanked whatever the opposite of Parker Luck was for his scholarship that allowed him to attend Midtown Tech for high school, where senior year classes actually counted towards gen ed college requirements.

Peter stood up, catching himself on the lofted bunk bed when he got a little dizzy.

Stupid spider metabolism.

Thankfully there were a couple of protein bars in his car. He made quick work of packing up his laptop and last-minute things before scrawling a quick note for George. On his way out he slapped the post-it on George’s lamp and grabbed his water bottle. The walk to his car wasn’t long, but it was a cold one that made him zip his coat up tighter. He was still proud of the fact he’d been able to snag a spot in the nearby car garage when he got here a week ago. Usually that garage was _always_ filled up by the time he rolled in. And trying to dig his car out of snow and ice was so not on his to do list tonight.

He threw his backpack and duffel bag into the passenger seat of his Audi R8 V10 Blue Spyder and buckled up before turning over the engine. Tony hadn’t exactly been too subtle with Peter’s eighteenth birthday present. Sure, the blue exterior was simple enough, but a black and red interior on top of that? Eye-rolling. Lots of (grateful!) eye-rolling. Luckily FRIDAY’s hardware was indistinguishable from any other touchscreen in expensive cars these days, but it still made Peter nervous whenever he needed to give a friend a ride back from the bar. Awkward questions about an A.I. in his car with Stark tech, if you really took the time to look at it, would not be fun to answer.

“Good evening, Peter,” FRIDAY greeted as she came online.

“Hey Fri,” he greeted in return, tossing his Stark phone on the charging station. “Turn the heat up for me?”

“Of course. Ready to head home?”

“You know it.”

He depressed the brake and shifted into reverse, checking the rear cameras before backing out of the space and heading towards the garage exit. It was Tony’s efforts entirely that Peter credited for his ability to somewhat confidently drive a car on his own, and this kind of expensive car especially. Traffic still made him nervous. And dark roads. And bad weather. But with FRIDAY installed as an emergency backup driver, there was very little Peter actually had to fear with driving anymore. He still had nightmares about the crash occasionally, but these days they were usually more about college assignments or… the usual for Spider-man.

It was typical, really.

JUST when he thought he’d gotten over the damn thing, the familiar nightmare would pop right back up and he’d wake himself up (hopefully) before he started yelling and screaming. At home with May he’d gotten to the point where he could at least muffle himself, and he was lucky enough to never have had one at the Avenger’s Compound or Stark Tower. But having the warehouse nightmare in his college dorm (new place, new smells, not all that familiar to him yet) gave him no shot whatsoever. He’d accidentally woken George up, who in turn woke him up, and peppered him with questions that Peter couldn’t and didn’t want to answer. It had made for some awkward dancing around each other the next morning and a totally undeserved apology from George for prying into things that weren’t his business to know. Tony would have agreed with his roommate, but Peter didn’t.

_“It’s okay, man,” Peter had said, spinning around in his chair. “You were worried, it’s fine. It’s just stuff that’s hard to talk about, you know?”_

_“Got it,” George replied, tapping fingers on the arms of his own chair. “Just… if you want to talk, I’m here. I’ll listen. No judgment, complete privacy. And if you want to talk to someone else—and I definitely think you should—I can find some resources—if you want! You know… whatever you need, man.”_

_“Uh—thanks! I’ll think about it. Sorry for waking you up and all.”_

_“So totally not a problem, Peter,” George said, spinning back around to his laptop, but deciding instead to complete the revolution and face Peter a second time. “Oh hey—did you turn in that Fluid Mechanics paper yet?”_

George was a good guy. Peter had a feeling he and Ned would get along really well. He’d have to get with Ned and see what his plans were for Spring Break, because they could totally fit in a third player in their planned game night. Fourth if MJ actually accepted.

About an hour and forty minutes into the drive Peter started feeling strange.

At first he thought it was the exhaustion catching up with him, because it wasn’t like he took care of himself the way Tony tried to drill into his head when he was home. There had definitely been some missed meals and distinct lack of sleep he wasn’t willing to admit to. And it wasn’t as if it was for some bullshit assignment either. It was actually a really fun experiment and subsequent paper to write. And he got it in on time, which was the important part.

Convincing himself of those ‘right choices’ however was getting more challenging with each passing minute. His grip on the wheel tightened as he felt a strong and bone deep ache ripple up and down his limbs. It was like the fever erupted with it, crashing over him suddenly and with force. When his stomach started to turn, he finally signaled and pulled off to the side of the road with a little less grace than usual. When he threw it into park he let out a surprised breath, and a weak moan along with it. He leaned his forehead against the wheel when a wave of dizziness came on. Shit, he hadn’t had his protein bars. But this felt like something that went beyond protein bars.

“Is everything alright, Peter,” FRIDAY asked.

It was on the tip of Peter’s tongue to tell FRIDAY he was fine, but the suddenness of whatever his body was trying to fight, and the strength of it too, scared him into actually admitting the truth. “I don’t feel so good, Fri…”

Without another word, Peter heard something pop loose and fall into the top console. When he saw a digital thermometer he almost laughed. Of course Tony would throw something like that in Peter’s car and not tell him about it.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” FRIDAY replied. “Per Boss’s orders, I’m to instruct you to take your temperature and stay off the road until I can determine the best course of action for you with your current symptoms.”

“Sounds great,” Peter mumbled, putting the thermometer in his mouth. All too soon the little device beeped, but Peter didn’t see a reading. Instead his vitals appeared up on the screen in front of him. But most of it just looked fuzzy behind his mostly closed eyes. When had the interior lights gotten so bright? Ow.

“It appears you have a moderate fever. Can you describe your other symptoms for me?”

Peter groaned, laying his head back on the steering wheel and crossing his arms in front of his stomach. “Aches. Bad aches all over…and a headache. I think.”

“Sounds like the flu,” FRIDAY said with a touch of sadness. “On the bright side you don’t appear to be having a migraine.”

Ooof—note to self: do not roll eyes with a headache. “Yippee.”

“I’ll inform the Boss. Hold tight, Spider-kid.”

Maybe it was a few minutes, maybe longer, who knew, but all of a sudden Tony was trying to talk to Peter via video call through the console. “Hey. Peter? Over here, baby blues. Talk to me.”

Peter turned his head toward the console, but kept his eyes closed. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Tony said with a frown. “You not feeling so hot?”

“Feel terrible,” he said, coughing. Where was his water bottle?

“Yuck. Well, Friday’s getting me there in about half an hour. Are you safe? You’re off the road?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to—”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can, okay kid?”

“Friday can just drive the rest of the way,” Peter protested, halfheartedly.

“Like I said. Half an hour in the suit. You want me to stay on with you?”

He actually did, but didn’t want to seem like a complete infant. It was bad enough Tony was arguing him down and coming out to drive him the rest of the way back. “Be okay,” he forced himself to say. Even talking was draining every last bit of energy out of him.

“Alright. I’ll be there soon. Sleep if you need to, but keep that butt in that seat for me, okay? …Okay?”

“Mmhm,” Peter said, tuning everything else out.

It was like being in a choppy body of water, riding cresting waves of pain and trying to cling to the lows of relief. He felt hot. He shivered. FRIDAY had turned up the heat hadn’t she? Peter looked over to the bags in his passenger seat. He knew he should get up and throw them both in the trunk. In a minute. In a few more minutes. Huh, the steering wheel was wet—oh, sweat—gross. Hadn’t he wanted to get up for some reason? But ugh, why would he? It was bad enough trying to reach around and unbuckle his seat belt. Stupid button. Wasn’t he pressing hard enough?

“I’m sorry, Peter, “ FRIDAY said, softly. “Boss said under no circumstances are you to take off your seat belt until he arrives.”

Peter moaned. “Need to move my bags…”

“Boss will take care of them. Would you like me to recline your seat so you might be more comfortable?”

The steering wheel was comfortable. It helped him breathe through the nausea. Oh, right. He hadn’t eaten. But he really didn’t want to eat a protein bar right about now. Soup maybe, but not nuts and chocolate and—NOPE—bad idea, bad idea, don’t think about food. Peter moaned and tried his breathing exercises his therapist had taught him. It helped a little bit, enough to make him doze.

A knock on the driver’s side window startled him awake. The window rolled down and a warm comforting hand found itself in the middle of Peter’s back. Peter turned and saw Tony leaning inside, suit already retracted.

“Hey kiddo. You with me?”

Peter nodded miserably, shivers running up and down his body from the cold air outside.

“Alright, lets get your bags in the back. Do you need anything from them?”

Peter shook his head. What he really needed was his bed and a mountain of blankets. Maybe a hot shower too. Maybe a hot shower in bed. Who hadn’t invented that yet? That was genius.

Tony snorted and laughed as he moved to the other side of the car. Oh. He’d probably said that out loud. Oh well. The window went back up at least.

With the slamming of the trunk Peter blinked and realized Tony has already moved his backpack and duffel bag. Next he was pulling Peter to his feet and guiding him around the car to sit in the passenger seat. Then, when he was settled, with plenty of groans and hisses and shakes, Tony wrapped a crinkly blanket around him like a burrito. It was soft and fuzzy on the outside, but whatever layer on the inside that trapped his body heat so perfectly was so welcomed. It was a slight wrestling match getting the seat belt properly secure with Peter wrapped up, but he managed and shut the car door. When Tony slid into the driver’s seat and made the necessary adjustments he belted himself in and got them back on the road.

“Warming up?”

“This blanket’s evil,” Peter said, soft and weak. “Where’d you find it?”

“I didn’t find it. I made it. Stark blankets didn’t really sell well, so we just give them out as company Christmas presents every year to get rid of them. It acts like a carriage blanket, but one that fits to form, doesn’t let any air in, measures body temperature, and self-heats when necessary. Some Executive’s wish list I said what the hell to one year. Expensive, but worth it yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

“Did you feel this bad when you left?”

“No.”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Probably not.”

“I’m not even going to ask about eating.”

“Good.”

Tony snorted laughter and shook his head. “Alright. Lean back and go to sleep. We’ll stop at the compound and get you checked out. ”

Before Peter could argue, Friday was already reclining his seat. “Don’t wanna be rude.”

“Well, it’s not rude if I tell you to. Sleep, kid. Hop to it.”

... ... ... ... ...

Peter grumbled, but comically fell asleep only moments later.

Tony smirked and resisted the strong urge to run his hand through the kid’s messy hair. Second semester and aside from the mandatory taking care of yourself part, the kid seemed to be doing pretty okay. Even though he was driving a sick kid back home, Tony still felt good about the decision he and Pepper had made about starting a family. With Peter as a big brother, Tony felt like he didn’t really have much to worry about. Except for his own tendency to swear. Probably. Hey, if the kid got to age five before he or she heard him utter anything inappropriate he reserved the right to call that a win.

He hadn’t told Peter yet, and if he was honest with himself he wasn’t really sure how to, or when. He’d have to tell Peter before long. Definitely before the baby shower, at least. Maybe when they decided on an actual house to raise a baby in. Tony already had a favorite picked out but there was one house left that they hadn’t seen yet. It was Pepper’s choice, oddly enough, and nestled next to a lake.

It wasn’t long before he pulled into the compound and parked Peter’s car in the underground garage. Peter hadn’t woken when they stopped, just continued to snore softly with his mouth open. Part of the blanket had fallen from his shoulder. Tony unbuckled his seat belt and reached over to touch Peter’s shoulder to wake him. “Home sweet home, kid,” he whispered.

The instant he touched Peter’s shoulder, the kid jerked away and startled awake with a gasp, going completely rigid.

Tony immediately retracted his hand and held them both up. “Whoa—hey!”

Eyes wide with fear and panic, Peter scrambled out of the car and fell on the concrete of the garage floor, scurrying away on all fours.

Tony initially reached for him, but the kid had moved so fast that Tony fumbled with the driver’s side door to try and get to him. “Peter—Peter!”

But Peter didn’t stop until he’d ended up in the middle of the front lawn, shivering and gasping for breath. Tony approached, slow and with caution. There was still a wild and confused air about him, but with each passing second Peter seemed to become more aware of his surroundings. Hearing Tony step onto the icy lawn, Peter whipped his head around, but blinked a few times and didn’t take off again.

“Peter,” Tony tried, holding his hands out and kneeling down a few feet away. “You with me, bud?”

“How did…?”

“I drove you home, remember? Home-ish. You get the picture—You’ve got a fever, and I really think you need some of Cap’s super meds. Bruce takes it personally when you don’t, so… do me a favor. What do you feel under your hands?”

Despite the trembling from the cold, Peter’s fingers spread out beneath him. “Snow. Ice. Grass.”

“Good. Three things you can see?”

“The…compound,” he said with a sigh. “The driveway. You.”

“Two for two. Three things you smell?”

Peter rubbed his forehead and started to curl into himself after he was done staring at the compound in front of them. “Nothing, I have the flu,” Peter whined. “Tony, I’m fine—”

“Hey, humor me, because that sand crab impression you just did was so spot on it was scary—”

“It was just a bad d-dream. I’m fi-i-ine. Can we g-go inside? S’freezing!”

Tony relented, getting his hands under Peter’s armpits and hauling him up with ease. Peter swayed forward, but Tony snagged his arm and pulled it over his shoulder so the kid wouldn’t face plant. He could tell how out of it the kid was when he didn’t recoil at Tony’s metal arm supporting him. Despite needing the help up to his bedroom, Peter did put his foot down about needing a hot shower and most definitely not needing help doing that. Tony wasn’t happy about it, but they came to a compromise by agreeing for the door to stay cracked open in case Peter actually needed him.

When he got Peter settled in warm pajamas and under his bed covers Tony headed back downstairs to grab Peter’s bags and bring them back up. Tony almost expected him to fall back to sleep, but Peter was thankfully still burritoed in his blankets with a blank and vaguely apologetic face. Tony tossed him the remote for his TV and told him to put something interesting on while he heated up some soup. Peter merely grunted what could be barely passable for a human response before doing just that.

When Tony returned with a bowl of hot soup, some bread, and a sports-sized bottle of water, Peter turned to face him with an adorable pout. “You know the rules. Food first.”

Surprised by the lack of argument, Tony settled in next to Peter as he slowly ate about half of what was there before giving up. While they waited for the meds to take effect, Tony shot a couple of texts to Pepper and May, accompanied by a surreptitiously taken picture.

_Poor thing. Thanks for taking care of him! Tell him to call me tomorrow WHEN HE’S GOTTEN ACTUAL REST! -Hot Aunt May_

_Tell Peter to feel better. I know you have things under control, but if either of you need me, call me. I love you! <3 -Pepper Stark_

He snorted at the double-momming going on, and wondered what that would be like with a baby Stark in the picture. After a few more grace minutes he nudged Peter awake from his dozing. “Hey. You wanna tell me what that bad dream was about?”

“Not really,” Peter replied.

Tony stole the remote and turned the TV off, tossing the thing onto the side table and giving Peter an expectant stare.

Peter just gave him the exact same stare right back. “How am I supposed to know if they Loved it or Listed it?”

“Not important. What is important, however, is whatever was bad enough to give you a mild panic attack when you woke up in the car.”

Peter groaned. “I’m sick. Can’t we talk about this later?”

“Not when you’re trying to deflect so obviously. Out with it.”

Eventually Peter sighed and thwumped his head into his pillow. “Don’t get mad.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll do my best,” he answered with a warning tone. “What did you do?”

Peter glared at him. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“See, when you have to preface anything with ‘It wasn’t my fault’ I’m already inclined to believe it _was_ your fault—”

“But it actually wasn’t.”

“I’m just saying you’re setting yourself up for failure, here—”

“ _Tony._ ”

Tony sighed and propped his head on his good hand, assuming his best actively listening pose.

Peter sat up against the headboard, dragging the blankets with him. “I didn’t tell you everything about Homecoming night.”

GREAT START. “Mmhm,” Tony grunted, an unpleasant feeling taking root in his stomach.

Peter almost rolled his eyes, but continued. “After I followed the Vulture out to the warehouse—”

“The same warehouse you swore to me a hundred times nothing happened at?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered with a guilty face. “Same one.”

“Okay… are you saying something _did_ happen?”

“Nothing _did_ happen. At first.” He paused to cough underneath his blankets. “Just the typical bad guy speech where they like to hear themselves talk on and on and on—”

“I’m familiar, kid.”

“And it was my first real-time super-villain who also happened to be my homecoming date’s dad, so on one level I kind of have to give him the time, you know—?” He coughed again.

“Trust me, you don’t,” Tony said, passing him his water bottle.

“Yeah, well, I know that now. It was a distraction and he sent his metal wing things at me. They missed me every time, because he wasn’t trying to hit me. He was aiming for the support columns.”

Tony felt his eyes snap to Peter’s, alert and suddenly not all that patient anymore. “Support columns?”

“…of the building.”

A brief and tense silence filled the room.

“So the warehouse—”

“Fell down on me. And not him. And… it really sucked, but I got out.”

Tony blew out a long arduous breath, eyes watering and throat attempting to close up on him. Stubbornly he cleared his throat and rubbed at his forehead. “We need to put a moratorium on not telling me life-endangering and completely avoidable things,” he said. “For future reference starting now—Can we do that?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, quietly, guilty and likely afraid of the upset tone Tony couldn’t help but voice. “I’m sorry.”

Tony closed his eyes and shook his head. Of course, this kid was apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault to begin with. “How long have you been having nightmares about this?”

Peter shrugged, which was telling. “Whenever I’m not having nightmares about everything else?”

Tony might have laughed at the flippancy of that statement, but it just bore a hole into his chest—the part that warmed and glowed with love for this kid who essentially wormed his way into it and refused to leave. “And how is it that I’m just now learning about this _years later_? You wanna answer that?”

Peter frowned in confusion. “It never came up and you were busy back then?”

Tony opened his mouth to deny it, but promptly shut it and sighed. “You’re right. You had no suit, no backup, and you should never have had to deal with that on your own. Jesus, you could have—”

“But I didn’t. Super-healing and super strength, remember?”

“Uh-uh! Nope. No defending me, kiddo. Taking away your safety net in hindsight was the worst thing I could have done,” Crap, he was so losing his battle with these tears.

“I mean, I did get a ferry torn in two pieces,” Peter defended—DEFENDED?!

“And you _deserve_ so much more than a shitty apology—”

“I don’t _need_ an apology, Tony.”

_Tony._ He smiled without any mirth. _Not dad._ They weren’t on that regular basis yet, and it surprised him how much that stung. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry. So, you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

Peter cracked a tired but worried smile. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Do you get why this upsets me?”

Peter shrugged, but didn’t say anything, winding himself deeper in his blankets in guilt.

“I could have lost you. Without any of this,” he said, waving his arm around at Peter’s room (there was some metaphor for that somewhere) and again at the space between them. “Or this…I would be a worse person for not having you in my life. And I do not— _cannot_ —even think about it.”

“I heard your voice,” Peter admitted softly. “In my head, when I was stuck. You did help me. You were there for me when I needed you. Even if you didn’t know it.”

Peter had a coughing fit afterwards, but that just felt like explicit permission for Tony to give in to the urge to run his fingers through that damp tousled head of hair. “Is that the fever talking?”

Peter shook his head after settling down again. “No, it’s the truth.”

“Then that helps,” Tony said with a sigh. “But seriously, I swear to God, if I hear _one_ more time ‘I didn’t tell you about this thing I know I should have told you about before,’ you’re grounded. I can and will assert full dad privileges over you and you won’t see the inside of that Spider suit again until you graduate college. Got it?”

Peter stared at him with a raised eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re kind of overreacting.”

“Try me and see what happens. Now, come here. I deserve a hug.”

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

Tony knew that tone. That was the ‘But I actually want to’ tone that took Tony a fair bit of time to come to interpret. Peter wasn’t exactly a walking contradiction, but at times Tony did have to wonder. “Tough shit, petri-dish” he said, pulling the boy into his arms.

Peter melted right into the embrace and they fit together perfectly.

To think he could never have had this…

“Mmmm S’not fair,” Peter moaned, cuddling into Tony. “M’a superhero. Shouldn’t have to get sick.”

Tony rubbed his back and readjusted them so they were both reclining against the pillows more comfortably. “So said every Avenger before getting felled by the common cold.”

“S’a lie. Thor never gets sick.”

“Bullshit, yes he did. And he’s the worst whiner of the bunch—even worse than Barton.”

“M’telling him you said that.”

“He’ll admit it. More home reno or do you want some Brooklyn Nine-Nine reruns?”

Peter made such a soft non-committal grunt that Tony had to look down for confirmation that the kid actually fell asleep on him. Tony smirked and kissed the top of Peter’s hot forehead. “Lights out, Fri,” Tony whispered.

“You got it, Boss,” she replied, equally as quiet.

He settled down under the covers with his kid and kept his phone nearby just in case. Peter’s fever burned throughout the night, but the heat wrapped in Tony’s arms and against his chest chased away the unimaginable that could have been. Back then he could never have understood the impact this kid would have had on his life. And Tony felt sorry for that past version of himself. He’d make the time to tell the kid the good news after he was better.

They had plenty of time. 


End file.
